Beyond the Booth, by Tommy Joe


I had just finished voting and was on my way home on foot when I
was confronted by a man with a gun appearing from a deserted side
street. He was pointing it straight at my gut.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know who you voted for just now", he said.

I could tell the guy was nuts. He scared me, I won't deny it.
"What makes you think I voted for anyone?", I said, hoping to divert
his attention.

"I saw you come out of the booth", he said. "I've been
waiting." His gun arm tensed and edged forward as he asked again with
a raised voice, "Now, who did you vote for?"

"Do third parties count?", I asked.

"No, they do not", he said. "You have a 50/50 shot of being
right, so you better quit bullshitting around and just answer my
question right now before I fill your guts with lead."

I began to stammer, trying to buy time. I searched his face
and scanned his clothes for clues to what he wanted to hear. I
couldn't take my eyes off his gun but could see he was dressed in a
suit and tie with neatly pressed trousers over a pair of shiny brown
shoes. He's got to be a Republican, I thought. Sure, he's a
Republican. But I was not sure. It's hard to be sure about anything
under such pressure.

"Well", I continued, ever so slowly, trying to buy some time -
"as for the person for whom I voted - well, let's just say that, yes,
yes, as you say, I did vote - and even though voting is supposed to be
an anonymous right, which of course it is - I realize in this case -
with you pointing that gun at me and so little time for me to give the
answer - I realize it might be a different story in that case - but
really, I swear to God, as for my vote, well - let's just say that I
have the answer to your question and am prepared to give it
momentarily if you'll just give me a few seconds
more....................."

"You're starting to sound like a politician", he boomed. "No
more games. I want an answer. I'm going to count to 3." His already
extended gun arm snaked out even further as if attached to a spring.
"One, two..................."

"Ok, Ok", I cried. "As for my answer, well, let's just say,
as for whom I voted, well, let me explain - you see - I really didn't
know who I was going to vote for when I went into the booth, but I had
an idea - but then when I got inside the booth I got to thinking I
don't really know for sure. Should it be this guy or that guy, I just
didn't know - but then, you see, what happened next
was................"

But suddenly he interrupted my lame monologue and, for what I
was sure was the last time, as he began to count to 3. "One,
two.............", and that was close enough for me. I decided to
gamble on his appearance that he was a Republican. I told him I voted
for the Republican candidate.

"Wrong answer", he said, smiling. "The wing-tips got you,
didn't they?" And he was right, his attire and especially his wing-
tip shoes did play a big role in my decision.

"Sorry", he continued, "you voted the wrong way and now you're
going to die."

He had the gun extended all the way out pointed at my gut as
I raised my leg to block the bullet like Lee Harvey Oswald tried to do
when Jack Ruby shot him on national TV. He fired. It was loud. I
thought I was hit and screamed out before realizing the gun was fake.
He was using a starter pistol.

He was laughing. I wanted to rip his head off and stomp it
into the ground, but he was a big guy and obviously nuts on top of
it, so I figured let's just be glad it's over and it was only a joke.
As I turned to walk away he called out one last time and I turned to
hear him say, "Never judge a book by it's cover.” Then he pointed to
his conservative wing-tip shoes before jumping high in the air and
clicking his heels like a happy elf. Then he turned and walked away,
his laughter trailing off with each step yet still ringing in my ears
even as I write this 4 years later. I will not be voting this year.
I have learned my lesson.

TJ